Parlour Games
by Lux Remanet
Summary: The world is taken by storm when Niflheim in an uncharacteristic act of goodwill, decides to send a representative to attend the annual leadership summit in Accordo. Even more shocking is the revelation that the male-dominated state's representative is a woman. And she seems to shatter Noctis' and the gang's expectations of Niflheim society. Pre-FFXV.


**Author Notes:**

(i) Parlour Games is a slice of life type fic. From trailers Niflheim is portrayed as the 'dictatorial big bad'. I was interested in writing a fic about politics and prejudice, misconceptions, stuff like that.

Other things:  
1. Stella won't be appearing because I'm treating this story as a kind of **prequel** to FFXV.  
2. Lightning's personality is her post Lightning's Return, but there'll be traces of FFXIII Lightning.  
3. Noctis is based on an interview by Tetsuya Nomura, as are the rest of the gang. But since this is a 'prequel', I've taken the liberty of assuming that they are slightly different from the people they become in FFXV.  
4. Etro is going to be known as 'God'.  
5. There's going to be a few latin terms thrown here and there, roughly translated from Google. If you're an expert, feel free to correct me.  
6. There may be slash. Haven't decided yet.  
7. I'm my own beta so if there are errors, feel free to point them out.

Enjoy!

Other than that, hi I'm Lux, it's nice to meet you fellow crossover fans, and I do hope you enjoy this.

-_L.R._

* * *

**Parlour Games;**

**(n.) **A phrase used to accuse political opponents of the use of deliberately nebulous or confusing language when describing their positions on issues.

* * *

_"In some strange way I am not with you, I am against you. We are destined to hold two truths. I love you and I fight you. And you, the same. We will be stronger for it, each of us, stronger with our love and our hate. When you caricature and nail down and tear apart, I hate you. I want to answer you, not with weak or stupid poetry but with a wonder as strong as your reality. I want to fight your surgical knife with all the occult and magical forces of the world."_  
-Anaïs Nin, (Henry and June)

* * *

**_Chapter 1: _**_  
__Are You There, Moriarty?_

* * *

#1.0#

King Regis always said that dawn was God's promise that there always was a chance for new beginnings. Especially in Accordo, he said. 'See Accordo at dawn and die,' the famous saying went. A possible explanation for the thriving tourism the city experienced year after year, and why it was of little consequence that when the first rays of sunlight touched the floating city, Noctis Lucis Caelum was one of many waiting to greet it.

The fourth floor suite he was sharing with Gladiolus provided an excellent vantage point. The twisting canals of the waterways glittered to life as the light spread, casting alluring blue-green tones onto the sides of whitewashed walls. A gentle call for the sleeping populace to awaken the light spread faster and faster; skimming along clustered rooftops and chimneys; filtering through gossamer-curtained windows.

Hotel Aurelius, located on Accordo's westernmost point when the light finally hit would have been a sight to behold—if it were the true reason Noctis chose to be up this early. In truth the natural phenomenon was only a sideshow to the main event. And the main event had finally appeared on the horizon in the same fashion as the dawn-bound for the hotel from the east. Noctis' dispassionate expression distracted a casual observer from the fists tightly clenched at his sides (and to an extent, the crystal dust beginning to gather and hum in intent).

The object of interest was a car. A white Audi R8 to be exact, with black tinted windows, diplomatic pennants atop its bumper and sunlight on its heels as it sped along the blacktop; disrupting the ambience with the aggressive roar of its engine. He couldn't make it out from this distance, but he knew without a doubt whose coat of arms the pennants bore.

Niflheim. The obscure military superpower.

_Ours and the world's nemesis, _Noctis thought.

Its entrance into the peaceful Accordo was like the witnessing of a behemoth finally emerging from the darkness of hibernation; exciting and terrifying at the same time. For anyone who wasn't Noctis, anyway. He found it extremely irritating. Despite the notice being given weeks if not months in advance, and the strict attention to detail Niflheim was renowned for—they were late. As if they'd whimsically decided it'd be amusing to drop in, unannounced.

_A testament to the Garrison State's arrogance_.

They were no guest, but an intruder. A cancer waiting to corrupt peaceful society with its mad ideals regarding 'unity' and the crystals. Accordo was much too gracious for its own good. Noctis for one could not ever recall being greeted so warmly for being _tardy_. The timing of it all was just...off.

_A wolf is among us._

A knock at the door interrupted his train of thought.

That had to be Ignis. He was the only one in their group who was consistently an early riser. His and Prompto's suite was across from Noctis', and Noctis could hear the womanizer's loud snoring carry throughout the hallway before he even reached the door. Unbeknownst to Prompto the three men had drawn sticks to see who would be bunking with him. Ignis lost, but he accepted his fate with a dignity Noctis found enviable.  
And Prompto was none the wiser.

On the threshold Ignis was staring; somehow surprised that he'd been answered. How he could stand the snoring was beyond Noctis. It had been three weeks since they'd arrived and not a single complaint nor a disgruntled expression had pierced through the man's constant (if not superhuman) veneer of calm. Noctis knew if it had been up to him he'd have smothered Prompto with a pillow on the very first night.

"What's up?"

"Nothing, I'm just surprised you're up."

Noctis did not believe that for one minute. It took a lot to surprise one of the most intelligent minds Lucis had to offer. With that in mind he narrowed his eyes at him and said,  
"If you're so surprised, why'd you bother coming in the first place?"

"I made a bet with Prompto." _And there it is, _Noctis thought. "He said you'd be up especially early today with Niflheim's representative arriving and all that."

"Well, looks like you lost. Good night then," Noctis began to close the door.

"Not necessarily," Ignis smoothly barred the way with a slippered foot. "I'm willing to split the winnings."

Noctis' head cocked to one side, calculating. "How much are we talking?"

"Two hundred gil so sixty-forty."

"_Two hundred_?" Noctis repeated in disbelief. That was an absurd amount for an equally absurd bet. Ignis and Prompto's petty bets amounted to five gil at the very most. "Why so much?" he wanted to know.

The latter was only too content to explain. "Given Niflheim's geopolitical history, and your indifference/borderline hatred for all politics in general," Ignis adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses pompously, "we debated about how you'd react to it. Prompto said the stigma associated with Niflheim would win out and you'd _suddenly_ become _very_ political about it."

Noctis scowled. "Prompto said that."

"Obviously I'm paraphrasing. And so," the man produced a folded gil note between his index and middle fingers and waved it in front of his face. "I told Prompto I was going for a jog."

"_Only_ sixty-forty?" Noctis grumbled.

"It's better than _nothing_, Noct."

The bribe was accepted with a roll of the Lucis heir's eyes, before he stood aside and made way.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Ignis said, closing it behind him.

* * *

#1.1#

* * *

Moments later the sunlight had reached their suite, filtering through the windows and playing onto the spiran carpets. Ignis was nursing a glass of water beside Noctis while the latter leaned his shoulder against the frame; carefully out of sight lest the paparazzi felt the urge to look upward. Ignis was just setting the empty glass down on the nearby table when the headlights of the Audi finally flickered off.

The silence suddenly turned tense. Especially on Noctis' part. Ignis had never seen him so focused. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he'd seen Noctis blink.

_He looks just like his father, _he thought, knowing better than to voice this similarity out loud.

"Odd, don't you think?" Noctis commented. "Niflheim _is _a military dictatorship. It goes against the grain that they'd arrive last minute."

"'In the icy city no one sleeps'" Ignis recalled from a past lesson.

"Maybe it's a fancy way of saying they have no concept of time."

Ignis chuckled quietly. "Maybe."

One of the aides hurried over to the driver's side and opened it with an extravagant (in Ignis' opinion) bow, while the other went for the boot. The moment the switchblade door rotated upward however, the visitor was hidden from view and all that could be seen was the journalists and paparazzi converging in a swarm. The flash photography was almost blinding as people snapped furiously with their DSLRs.

"God look at those idiots falling over themselves," Noctis muttered scathingly. "Like sharks on the scent of blood."

_But whose blood are they after, I wonder, _Ignis thought. "It's a smart step though."

"For who?"

"Everyone, of course." Ignis answered.

Noctis' eyes were filled with a cynicism that seemed beyond his years. "No, not everyone."

"You think there might be a darker motive in play?"

The prince shrugged ponderously. "In the aftermath it's always the winners who write history. Since when does a _dictatorship_ advocate peace?

"People are capable of change, Noct. Is it so terrible a crime for them to want peace?"

"Of course not. But peace is a subjective construct. If Niflheim had their way years ago, they'd have 'united' all the lands around them 'in the name of it'. Just one glance at their track record and you know that at most, anyone from that country is an apathetic lunatic."

"How do you know that?" Ignis' tone was mildly confrontational. "Have you ever _met _anyone from Niflheim?"

"No," Noctis' expression was thoughtful "but it just seems a little too convenient…_opportunistic_ almost."

"Last I checked it wasn't considered 'opportunistic' to want peace."

"Well maybe it is if one knows one can be defeated."

Ignis looked at him incredulously. "_That's_ why you think they've come."

Noctis fixed him with a level stare. "That's the _only _reason why they've come."

"You're being paranoid. Do you even have evidence for this theory?" Noctis' ears reddened, and Ignis knew he'd won. He pounced. "Don't you think you're being a _little_ bit prejudiced?"

"Come _on_," Noctis said, level tone beginning to rise. "Who better to fear the taste of defeat than the barbaric Garrison State itself?"

Ignis looked at him for a good, long minute. "You need to have more faith in people."

"I think you'll find that I have _exactly_ the required amount."

"Which is?"

"_None_." Noctis answered snootily.

The sound of a car door closing carried up through their window, calling their attention back to the courtyard below as Niflheim's representative was revealed. There was terse silence, and then,

"A woman," the two said in unison. Though Noctis sounded more amused than surprised.

"Well this is…unexpected." Ignis couldn't help but say.

Noctis snorted. "I'll say. Who knew women in Niflheim wore heels."

At that remark all Ignis could do was stare. He'd never heard a more bigoted statement, and he was stunned: usually it was Prompto who made inappropriate comments like these. It was absolutely unbefitting of a future King of Lucis. He shook his head.

"What's your problem?"

"You say that like it's a law against nature."

"They're from _Niflheim_," Noctis said; in a tone that suggested it settled the matter.

"And?" Ignis crossed his arms. He knew exactly what the latter was thinking: '_if I were with Prompto we'd be laughing about it'_. Gladiolus was always 'too each his own'/indifferent in matters like these, so it was always up to him to call out on crap like this.

"Never mind," Noctis muttered, fixating on the scene below again. "I guess she has a nice dress." He sounded like he was forcing the words out.

"Ahh yes." Ignis agreed, determined to re-establish camaraderie between them. "The sabrina neckline still remains a classy choice. Attractive without compromising."

"Sabrina _what_?" Noctis repeated, giving him a dumb look.

"Her _dress_." Ignis moved closer to the window as he said it, trying to get a better look. He could feel Noctis' expectant gaze on his back. "I dated a designer once." He explained over his shoulder.

Noctis snorted. "How do you think she's going to conceal weapons under it? The dress _does_ seem a little form-fitting. Doubt she could run very far if she tried something."

_Again with the snide remarks. _"Why in the world would she need weapons? Or to run, for that matter?"

"Because _no one wants her here_."

"So the hotel owner's fawning over her because…" Ignis prompted.

"Because people are nicer to pretty people. _Obviously_."

Ignis raised an eyebrow. "You should tell her that…if you ever manage to string a sentence together in front of her, that is."

"Or maybe I can just string _this_." Noctis retorted, giving him the finger.

_Always so defensive_. Ignis chuckled and punched him lightly in the arm. "Noct, don't underestimate her because she's a woman. Though it's a sign of progression it could still prove a dangerous disadvantage to the rest of us."

"_Dangerous_?" Noctis scoffed, gesturing wildly at the scene below. She had mountains of microphones and recorders and cameras shoved in her face.  
"Politics is _perception_ Ignis. She's not representative of all females living under dictatorial rule. She's probably only one of the rich one percent; a bureaucrat or a bureaucrat's _daughter_ at the very most."

"Maybe; maybe not—we don't know that for sure," Ignis rubbed the stubble on his chin absently. "Consider the fact that all the world knows about Niflheim is what Niflheim _wants_ it to know."

Noctis went over to the bed and fell backward onto it, staring blankly ahead. "Your point?"

"My point is if that's the case then this so-called 'perception' of unity could actually be a reality. Which do you think is stronger, a divided Niflheim or a united one? 'Soldiers first and citizens second' the saying goes. But we still have to give them the benefit of the doubt."

Noctis draped an arm over his eyes, letting out a weary sigh. "So what should we do?"

Ignis went and reclined on the sofa with his arms behind his head; legs draping over the opposing armrest.  
"Nothing rash, obviously," he said after a beat. To his own ears he sounded as tired as Noctis felt. "We're not here for the conference so there's no reason for us to feel the need associate with them."

"Unless our host demands it," Noctis corrected, yawning. "We're here for free because the owner owes dad a favour, remember? And since dad's such good friends with them they practically own us. All they have to do then is 'ask'."

"Yeah it'll be hard to reject an invitation without offending Niflheim and the rest of the world."

"I _hate_ politics," Noctis grumbled. "Do this; do that, blah blah blah. I didn't come all this way to play house. I came here for a _vacation_."

"And that's what we're doing so quit worrying.," Ignis reassured him. "Nothing's come to that yet." He removed his glasses and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel a migraine coming on. "Let's just carry on with our own business and don't bother about it. It's probably nothing."

"_Probably_?" Noctis laughed. "That doesn't sound like the analyst I know."

"You're right," Ignis conceded. "I'll make some calls."

* * *

#1.2#

* * *

The sun was high and shining—and in the middle of melting the flesh right off Prompto's face when he awoke. Ignis had purposefully left the curtains open—_again_. He was also conveniently nowhere to be found so Prompto couldn't begin his daily clobbering regimen.

Rolling to the shadier half of the bed he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Vaguely he remembered making a bet before they conked out last night, but the details were fuzzy at the moment. In the corner of his eye he could see that his cell phone's screen was flashing. With a groan to rival an elderly man complaining of his joints he crawled until he could reach it from the bedside table and unlocked it.

There were three different text messages, and unfortunately, none of them belonged to hot women. Then again, he wasn't having much luck with women because the other three were the _worst cock-blocks imaginable_. Ignis refused/didn't know when to take a hint, Gladiolus was much too blunt and Noctis…

Noctis was the closest thing to a double-edged sword in human form, to be honest. There was a lot of appeal in dating a future King which was good: it attracted women to their group in _droves _without the latter even trying. Unfortunately, Noctis was extremely uncomfortable about it and always, _always_ clammed up. When that happened he tended to stare holes through their table. No eye-contact would be made and all of his answers—if _any_—would be clipped and robotic. In a weird sense it was endearing, but _seriously fucking annoying_ because this was always interpreted as a snub and the ladies would move on to the next table.

_Cock-blocks, all of them!_  
Prompto wanted to stand on the balcony outside and proclaim it to the world._ (_Though if he thought about it, he might actually have done so—they always received complaints the morning after.) Seriously though: they'd only been here for two weeks and already his success rate with women had taken a nose dive. Realizing the revelation was sad in itself.

_Although…_

There _was_ still the woman in suite 413 down the hall he'd caught making eyes at him every so often; so even if he wasn't lucky with the local girls there was still a chance for him to get some_. _Like with the text messages he was about to check right now. Maybe the others had finally decided to get with the program.

_Got some work stuff to take care of–_Ignis' one read.

Maybe not_._

"Workaholic," Prompto croaked, voice still thick with sleep. He scrolled to the next one.

_Sorting things out with dad–_Noctis

He yawned, rolling his jaw around to wake himself up. "Workaholic."

_Looking for the other two (officially anyway)–_Gladiolus

"Workaholic." Prompto pronounced for the final time.

He rolled onto his back with a sigh and stared at the lights over head, waiting for inspiration to hit. His stomach growled loudly instead and for the longest time. When it finally let up he swung his legs off the side of the bed with a laugh and sat up, stretching.

"Lunch it is."

The decision to get out of bed instead of sleeping some more turned out to be a better idea than expected because the moment he stepped out 413's door opened as well. After doing a routine breath check he strolled over and put on his best smile…which quickly turned into a gape of surprise.

That was soo..._not_ 413. 413's legs weren't _nearly_ as endless. Or toned. And the original 413 who was beautiful in her own right had to have been the evil step-mother in this fairy tale. Because she didn't even compare to the _smoking_ pink-haired number in the white tank top and shorts presently locking her room with her back to him.

_Just look at how those legs go up and make an ass of themselves, _Prompto thought with approval. He managed to collect his jaw off the floor just as she turned and their eyes met.

_Hellooo gorgeous._ Her irises were an electric blue that buzzed with a vitality he'd never seen before. _ I could just jump in and swim in them forever.  
_Or drown-he'd be happy with that outcome as well.

"Hi," Prompto said, switching on the charm.

"Erm, hi." She responded awkwardly.

_God. _That _voice_. So soft; unassuming. The exact sensual octave that could drive someone to imagine what the owner of that voice would sound like in their bed. Naked.

Unfortunately, he could tell her smile was guarded so the scenic approach was in order. He offered a hand. "I'm Prompto. Welcome to Accordo."

"Thanks. Lightning," she answered, shaking it.

_Lightning? _He'd have to find out later. In the meantime he focused on her surprisingly firm grasp. A lot could be learnt about a person in the way they shook hands, and Prompto was quickly gauging from the brief moment of contact that she was confident despite the quietness of her voice. Strong. More than meets the eye_._

_Just what the doctor ordered._

"Here on holiday?" Prompto asked.

She nodded, looking down and smoothing out imaginary creases in her denim shorts. It was a mission and a half fighting off the urge to ogle her legs, because _damn. _Until he noticed the ring on her finger that was. After that his plans on charming her pants off ('literally', anyway—she seemed like she could still be pleasant company) came to a screeching halt. Three weeks had left him drained and he doubted even at his best he'd be able to muster energy for this hurdle.

"_Working_ holiday, actually," Lightning corrected, oblivious. "I'm here for the—"

"The Leadership Summit, right?" Prompto guessed. He'd heard Noctis bitch enough about his old man dropping hints here and there to attend that it was probably imprinted on the front of his skull.

"Yeah. You? I'm a little late though-just got in this morning."

"Just seeing the sights." Prompto grinned.  
The silent '_you happen to be one of them'_ went unsaid.

Man life was a bitch. The woman was s_mart _and _beautiful: _a combination almost unheard of these days. And though he was struck by the temptation, even _he_ had enough sense and experience to back off.

He opened his mouth to say something further but his stomach beat him to it; growling at full volume without apology.

What followed was possibly the longest minute of his life.

"So _yeah_…" Prompto casually stated with a sheepish grin. He let the suggestion hang in the air.

Cue the _actual_ longest minute of his life. The first had been a tremendous oversight.

Like clouds parting from the heavens, the composure on Lightning's face broke by the tiniest bit, and the corners of her lips quirked in amusement.  
"Good idea." She said. He breathed a sigh of relief on the inside while she tucked her key and swipe card into her pocket before gesturing. "Lead the way."

"Hope you're into seafood. The lobster's _to die for_." Prompto said as they got in the elevator together.

"I happen to live near the ocean so bring it on."

As they began to descend, he felt himself smile genuinely for the very first time since arriving in this gilded hell-hole.  
Things were definitely looking up.

* * *

#1.3#

* * *

From the skies Accordo was nothing but a few big islands (or neighborhoods) wrapped around a palace-lined _Maximo Canalis_ (Grand Canal) in a winding curve with lots of smaller canals (200 to be exact) threading their way through those islands across numerous alleys. Navigating it was simple. _Theoretically_, anyway, because the reality was humorously complicated.

If Gladiolus didn't have a keen sense of direction he would have been hopelessly lost. Accordo was not like any other city he'd ever visited. Street names tended to change every block and were reused in other neighborhoods and buildings were numbered—not logically based on location as in most places (odd counting numbers on one side of the block; even on the other)—but rather on the order in which the buildings were built.

The locals always had a good laugh to themselves when they saw frustrated visitors scratching their heads, furiously wondering why building number 2079 was beside number 10 and the like. There was never any attempt on the government's part to try to rectify the organized chaos because it was all a part of city's allure. And from a touristic standpoint: a means of helping people experience a new way of life.

Which was exactly what happened to Gladiolus.

It was by accident (or fate, as the locals cheerfully liked to insist). Upon arrival, Prompto had obtained a list of things to do while from the front desk, and the first thing on the itinerary was the world-famous gondola rides. He was still jet-lagged and practically half-asleep while Ignis talked his ear off about 'how it used to be the country's chief means of transportation' (insert technical jargon here) when he noticed a crowd gathered in a circle in an alleyway they were passing on their way to the Saint Aerith railway station. Most of them were fighting to get close to the epicenter of the action, energetically waving wads of the local currency in the air and jeering.

"What's going on there?" Gladiolus wondered aloud, though he had a pretty good idea.

At once the elderly gondolier's face turned disapproving. He pointedly moved to block Gladiolus' view. "_Platea pugna." _He practically spat out the words.

"Street fight," Ignis translated, in much the same tone.

The boat began to move faster, as if the gondolier was embarrassed about the matter.

Gladiolus' eyebrow rose in interest. He craned his neck, shielding his eyes from the sun. "And people bet money, do they?"

Ignis groaned beside him.

"_Ita vero._" The gondolier shook his head, wagging a finger in warning. "You shouldn't get mixed up. Too much danger. _Mortem_."

"Certain _death_," Ignis told Gladiolus pointedly.

"_Relax_," Gladiolus laughed, clapping him on the back. "I'm not _that _bored."

But he filed that little detail away—just in case, which turned out to be excellent foresight on his part. Because when the third week rolled around he felt like his mind was going to explode. The others had found things about Accordo that interested them and those interests were asymmetrical to his own. Ignis loved the café culture. Prompto loved the women. Noctis had turned into a regular 'jack be nimble, jack be quick' after one of the hotel valets introduced him to parkour and free-running. Gladiolus still hadn't found anything to his tastes.

And so it was that even though they'd agreed to rotate playing bodyguard to the crown prince, he was the one who became practically glued to Noctis.

Running was good exercise—and God knew Noctis did an excessive amount—but it wasn't enough to alleviate the sort of tension beginning to coil in his muscles and gut. Gladiolus wanted adrenaline. He wanted action. He didn't want to sit around in a café with a book in his hands or a computer in his lap. He doubted a woman could manage to give him even half the release he craved.  
He wanted the punching bag he took out his frustration on during gym to fight _back_, damn it. He wanted to break a few bones; he wanted to feel some sort of pain or exhaustion to remind himself he was still alive.

And then he remembered. After grabbing a map and marker from the front desk, he located Noctis' valet friend (doing handstand push-ups for the female guests by the pool) and thrust the paper in his face. His accent and command of the local language was clumsy, but it was only two words, and two words were more than enough.

"_Platea pugna_."

At mention of those two words the man's eyes widened and he promptly tore up the map in a frenzy, uttering a litany of words Gladiolus couldn't understand. The tone was familiar though.

Gladiolus grabbed him by the collar with a snarl, ready to hurl him into the pool. "What the hell did you just—"

"Meet me at _Pontem de Concordia _at sun down," the man whispered, grinning knowingly. "I shall show you _platea pugna. _ But it can't be mentioned in front of the guests. I need this job."

"Sundown then."

The nickname he earned after the fourth week was _Hercules_. His supporters never explained what it meant, but the envy he saw in the eyes of the defeated was translation enough.

_Hercules it is._

If Ignis suspected, he made no indication that he did. As long as Noctis' safety wasn't compromised, they were good.

He was in the middle of pressing an ice-pack to his eye when Noctis entered their suite, carrying two six-pack cartons of _Corona; _the local brew. Ignis followed after him in a zombie-like fashion, clutching an expensive-looking bottle of single malt in one hand and a bag of ice in the other.

"What's the occasion?" Gladiolus asked while the two men collapsed onto the couch and opened their beers in unison.

"Where's Prompto?" Noctis asked instead.

"Playing hooky with 413. He should be getting back any—"

The door was all but knocked off its hinges as someone kicked it open.  
"Tis I!" Prompto exclaimed, planting himself enthusiastically between Ignis and Noctis. He grabbed Noctis in a headlock and ground his knuckles into his hair. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"  
He yelped as the latter shoved him onto the floor. That was when he noticed the beer.

"What's this?"

"Exactly what I wanna know." Gladiolus remarked, flipping over the ice-pack and pressing it to his eye again.

"What the hell happened to _you_?" Prompto laughed.

"I fell." Gladiolus shrugged. He looked to Ignis who still seemed to be in a daze. "What's his deal?"

Instead of answering, Noctis reached for the television remote. The 50-inch plasma screen came to life. His expression was stoic as he surfed through the channels.

"Uh Noct?" Gladiolus said.

"Earth to Noct." Prompto poked the prince with his foot.

"Channel Ten news." Ignis said, terse. Noctis turned up the volume and all heads in the room at once became focused on the display.

"…_and finally, the very latest on the annual Bonum Dux Summit. In a surprising turn of events, King Regis has announced that his son, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum will be participating in the summit as Lucis' representative. The reigning monarch has additionally shown keen support in fostering good ties with Niflheim, from this afternoon's press conference."_

The image changed. King Regis appeared onscreen, expression austere as he stood behind the podium with the royal palace as a backdrop. Off to the side Gladiolus spotted Cor.

_"This is a choice that has been made in support of the wider international community and Lucis' collective interests in peace," _King Regis stated_. "We are ready to do whatever it takes, to ensure a brighter future for our younger generation and stronger ties with our neighbors." _He looked straight into the camera. "_I'm proud of you, son."_

The news anchor appeared onscreen once more._ "The move comes in response to the arrival of Niflheim's—"_

**-click-**

The television was switched off.

A pregnant pause, and then,

"Bastard," Noctis groused, reaching for another beer. He wrenched off the cap and took a long, angry draught. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he said,  
"I told him I had no intention of doing the stupid thing and he goes and does _this _behind my back. Of all the fucking-"

"Toss me one," Gladiolus said. As he twisted the cap off Noctis' expression suddenly became resolute.

"What now?"

"This is my last night of freedom. I intend to get wasted."

"Sounds like a plan. So we're going out, right?" Prompto confirmed with a sly smile.

"_Yeah_."

"Why's Ignis all pale?" Gladiolus frowned.

Noctis laughed. "We had a conference call with dad and dad 'asked' him to help but Ignis told him it was my choice. That's all I know, because he wanted to talk to Ignis 'privately' after that. I came back in and boom. Zombie. Anyway, yeah. Let's go out. Fuck some shit up. Start a fight."

Gladiolus chuckled. "I'm onboard with that."

Prompto jumped to his feet, excited. "Can I bring a friend?"

"I thought she left already," Ignis muttered. He was shoved cheerfully out of the way while Prompto smiled expectantly at the prince.

"You can bring the _entire staff _for all I care." Noctis told him.

"Yuss!" He was out the door before anyone could protest.

An hour later, the beer was finished, and Gladiolus and Ignis who were always the first to get ready, had started on the scotch. They had stationed themselves on the couch in dress shirts and slacks with their black leather oxfords resting on the coffee table. The television was on, but with the volume on mute. They were alternating between theories of how Prompto managed to convince '413' to stay. The former had left fifteen minutes ago to fetch her from her room.

"This is nice," Gladiolus said, swirling the contents of his tumbler around. "Packs quite a punch."

"It's vintage." Ignis explained, waving his hand lazily. "A gesture of thanks by the organisers."

"Maybe I should start going to these things."

"You'll get bored," Noctis drawled, emerging from the bathroom in a towel. Reaching over the couch he helped himself to a drink. After a sip he looked around. "Where's the blonde?"

"Gone to get 413." Ignis answered wearily.

"After all this time spent together he _still_ doesn't know _her name_?" Gladiolus was incredulous.

Noctis smirked. "Stops him from getting attached."

The door opened then, and all heads turned while Prompto strode in, bringing with him a woman who was most definitely not 413, but still something to look at.

Noctis very audibly crushed the glass in his hand as he stared in abject disbelief.

Gladiolus leaned over to Ignis and chuckled. "We really need to work on his people skills."

* * *

**a/n:  
[12/05/2014]**

I initially hadn't planned on making this a romantic story, but after reading Dead Roses I jumped aboard the Lightis ship. That being said, romance is just a happy consequence, and not the be all and end all reason why I'm writing this.  
Anyway, if you're wondering, yes, there will be Lightis sexytimes ;)  
Buuut this fic's on hiatus until I play FFXV because there's going to be an announcement at E3 2014. Fingers crossed it's 2015 or 2016 at latest!

A/N: 10/06/2014

Future updates will be posted on Ao3!


End file.
